


‘CAUSE IN THE DARK THERE ARE NO STRANGERS

by flammable_heart



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Supernatural (Stranger Things), Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Billy Hargrove Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove Is Bad at Feelings, Billy Hargrove Needs Love, Billy Hargrove Redemption, Billy Hargrove Tries to Be a Better Person, Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington - Freeform, Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington Smut, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Bottom Steve Harrington, Enemies to Lovers, Gay Billy Hargrove, Harringrove, Hurt Steve Harrington, Inspired by Stranger Things (TV 2016), M/M, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Smut, Soft Billy Hargrove, Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Steve Harrington Has a Crush on Billy Hargrove, Top Billy Hargrove, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-12 12:01:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28510086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flammable_heart/pseuds/flammable_heart
Summary: Steve and Billy like to fight—they hate each other, except they don't, not really. A chance encounter one rainy night could change everything, but that doesn't mean they're not still the same people.Love can lift you up, but it can also tear you apart.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove & Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 2
Kudos: 56





	1. Running in the Night

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS: physical violence, mentions of abuse, smut (oral—male receiving, anal—male receiving), angst
> 
> 18+ READERS ONLY
> 
> This is a new little series that will have about 6 parts to it. Hope you enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve passes Billy walking in the rain, one night when they’re both trying to escape their lives. And while they may hate each other, there’s much more lingering under the surface than either wants to admit.

Dustin has not stopped crying since Steve got home from school and Will tugs on his shirt for the hundredth time because their mother just got home from work and their father is still nowhere to be found. He knows he should start dinner—it would be nice, and he does it more nights than not because his mom is tired and his dad is useless. But there’s a pounding in his temples that he can’t shake and the walls feel like they’re closing in on him.

It’s already dark when he slips out the window, his car on the street and the rain coming down in sheets. But he feels like the static in his brain lifts when the Trans Am’s engine revs and he slides down the neighborhood streets. There is nothing quite like driving at night, even in their little nothing town. And he dreams of hitting the highway—of escaping into the night someday when no one will miss him, when the sound of the engine and the wind rushing by the windows is all he’ll need.

He’s not a mile outside of town when he sees someone walking, head down, along the road and he recognizes the set of those shoulders, the cocky pop of their collar. Steve hates him—the way he sneers when he catches the other boy looking at him, the flick of his tongue when he thinks no one is looking and he pops his gum. Billy is the worst kind of boy, with his long hair and his wild eyes and Steve would truly hate him if there wasn’t something in the other boy that he wanted so fucking much. As he drives by, he slows down, rolling down his passenger window.

“Somebody steal your car asshole?!” He revs the engine after he yells, rolling away and laughing to himself as he drives. But he doesn’t get far before he’s turning around, something in the pit of his stomach forcing his hand to turn the wheel. He leans forward when he stops beside the boy again, motioning his head towards the door as he rolls the window down. “C’mon, get in.”

Billy can feel the bruise forming on his cheek, can still taste the blood from his father's fist breaking skin. Only, this time, he went a little too far—he hit back. Billy knew it was a stupid move the second he did it but, fuck, if it wasn't satisfying to feel his father's nose crunch under his fist.

He didn't wait for the blow back, he bolted like a fucking coward.

It didn't matter that it was raining, it didn't matter that his sister was probably going to get it because of him, he just had to get out. Being in that house was like being a caged animal, it made his skin feel tight, made him want to tear things apart.

Billy couldn't even get his fucking cigarette to light for all of the rain but he still walked. Once he was out in the world, out of that house, he could stop feeling like a fucking coward. He could step back into the face he put on for the rest of the world, the one that fit him the best. And he didn't even say anything to Steve's taunt, simply lifted a middle finger with a sneer—the boy would fucking pay when they saw each other again.

Only that came too soon.

Billy doesn't have to be asked twice to get into the car, and climbing into the passenger seat he shakes his hair like a wet dog at Steve. "Think it's raining out?” His smile is vicious when he says it, a laugh in the back of his throat at the other boy’s reaction.

“Fucking seriously dude?” He feels the now warm droplets of water hit his face and Steve shakes his head, his eyes rolling as he revs the engine again, his fingers tightening on the steering wheel. He hates the look in Billy’s eyes, hates the savage sneer he always wears to cover up what he’s really thinking. Steve knows there has to be something more there, something worth digging for, but he doesn’t know how to get at it.

“What were you doing out there anyway?” He asks nonchalantly, even though he’s dying to know—dying to know something other than the feeling of his own teeth hitting his lip, the taste of blood in his mouth when Billy’s knuckles connect with his face.

He remembers their last fight—gym class a few weeks earlier—his hands on the other boy’s chest for a split second before Billy had punched him. He wonders sometimes where all that anger comes from and why it always seems directed towards him, but Steve quickly pushes it from his mind. It’s not worth wondering about when they’re sitting inches from each other, his heart beating loudly in his ears despite the fact that Billy hasn’t said a word.

It's easier for Billy to pretend to hate the things he wants. If he doesn't voice it, doesn't put action to fleeting thought, no one gets hurt. He only knows how to ruin and break. His knuckles are bruised for a reason.

He sniffs at Steve's question, fishing in his pocket for his pack of cigarettes and placing one between his lips, offering the pack to the other boy, who shakes his head. "Same thing as you most likely," he mumbles around the cigarette before flipping the lighter and inhaling deeply. When he feels the nicotine seep into his lungs, he tips his head back against the car's headrest exhaling smoke into the ceiling.

Steve hates the smell of cigarette smoke, but he keeps his mouth shut when out of the corner of his eye he sees Billy lean his head back and exhale. The other boy is all sharp teeth and claws but with wet, matted hair and that sigh Steve sees something more. It just a glimpse, but it’s something to hold on to.

“Oh yeah, and what do you imagine that was?” Steve doesn’t know why he’s all sarcastic questions, shoulders too tight, the wheel jerking when he takes the corner. And regardless of what Billy thinks he’s doing out here, despite what he wants and what he knows won’t happen, Steve still drives towards the abandoned saw mill, the river running behind it the only place he ever really goes.

Billy looks out the window, eyes trailing familiar buildings and street signs until they become unfamiliar. "Getting away," he says simply, cryptically. The only reason to drive like this is to get out, just like that's the only reason to walk in the pouring rain when you have nowhere to be.

Steve nods his agreement, a soft ‘yeah’ accompanying it. Of course he was getting away, escaping the press of his family and the walls of their house, trying to get away from their little black hole of a town. It feels as though if he doesn’t get out soon he never will, that he’ll fall prey to Nancy Wheeler instead and get married and have a handful of kids he doesn’t want.

The ground is wet but the tires of the Trans Am slide easily over the soft ground, into the tire tracks he’s worn down over the last two years. When he parks Steve doesn’t even look at the other boy, just stares out the windshield, the cigarette smoke making him slightly dizzy.

Billy’s eyes scan the abandoned mill, eyebrows raising as he looks over at Steve, taking the cigarette out of his mouth. "Well, I guess you either brought me here to kill me or fuck me."

“You really think I feel that strongly either way about you Hargrove? Those things would require me to actually think about you, which I don’t.” But it’s a lie and his throat is tight when he says it, never looking over at the other boy. He thinks about Billy more than he’d like to admit, more than he would ever voice if asked directly. Nancy is just a girl he’s gone on some dates with, a girl he’s fucked in the back of this car while thinking about someone else.

The spark of a challenge lights up his eyes at Steve’s little speech. Billy turns quickly in his seat, his elbow propped up on Steve’s seat, his other arm stretching across the dash, cigarette still between his fingers. “Aw, cmon, you don’t ever think about me?” He asks leaning a little closer, his head tilting to the side. “How can you say that after all the lovely moments we've shared when I’m kicking your ass?”

He tries to hide the sting of it, the idea that he really does mean nothing, but it’s present in his eyes nonetheless.

Steve’s initial instinct is to pull away from the other boy, but there’s nowhere for him to go in the small car, so he stays put. He can smell the lingering nicotine on Billy’s jacket, wants to lean closer but stops himself. His face is visibly flushed with the close proximity, his pants suddenly too tight.

“Yeah, you’re right, I think about you every time I see the black eye or fat lip you gave me.” At the mention of his own mouth, Steve bites down on his lower lip unconsciously. Billy’s smile is dangerous, too wide and the tilt of his head mirroring his own. And he doesn’t know what to do, shifting slightly, getting closer without trying, too hot but not knowing what to do about it.

Billy smirks at Steve’s response. He can feel the other boy getting antsy and he can’t tell if he wants to punch him or kiss him. Taking his arm off of the seat, he grabs Steve’s chin, tilting his face to examine him in the dim light. He tries to keep his gaze neutral, detached, and not like he’s the most beautiful thing Billy’s ever held in his hand. “Eh, you look all right to me—maybe we should change that.” His eyebrows raised, it’s almost like Billy is asking Steve for permission.

The sound that echoes in the very back of Steve’s throat when Billy grabs his chin is both feral and wanting, not at all what he would have intended if he’d had the power to control it. But he stays still, his eyes half closed both watching the other boy and waiting for him to do something.

“So do it Billy.” The words are both a taunt and a plea, his lip sliding through his teeth and his tongue following. This is all he’s wanted for so many years, the violence to turn into something different, still reckless but achingly so.

Billy’s smirk turns into a sneer at the challenge, his hand tightening on the other boy's chin. Putting the cigarette out in the ashtray, that sneer turning more sinister, he moves quickly, the side of Steve’s face hitting the drivers side window. “This what you wanted Stevie?” he breathes against his ear, leaning closer, his breath hot on Steve's skin.

He feels his temple hit the glass and winces, but his lips turn up in a snarling grin anyway. There was something in Billy’s eyes a second earlier, and now he knows the truth.

He’s a coward.

Steve’s hand reaches to grab the other boy’s shirt, to keep him in place and he breathes out shakily as he feels Billy’s breath in his ear. “That all you’re good for Billy?” He tries to breathe out a laugh but it gets caught in his throat, his thumb pressed into Billy’s chest in challenge.

Billy huffs out a laugh, hand snaking across the other boy and moving the seat lever to drop it back quickly so he can climb on top of Steve. He places one hand on his chest, the other pulls back into a fist, the already sore knuckles slamming into the bones of his cheek. “That more your speed?” He grits the words out as his fingers fist into Steve's shirt. Another punch, then a third and his chest is heaving like he's ran a mile as he looks down at the other boy.

Hips arching up immediately, Steve’s head hits the headrest as the seat settles into place. He’s not expecting Billy to get into his lap, but he knows that look in the savage boy’s eyes. He closes his own as the other boy’s fist connects with his cheekbone, and his teeth find his lower lip again, eventually drawing blood.

His eyes stay closed through the subsequent punches, his skin burning, the pressure on his hips as Billy moves unbearable. When he hears the other boy breathing hard above him Steve opens his eyes again, that savage smirk on his own lips again as he pants, his head thrown back for a moment to clear the hair from his eyes.

“That what does it for you?” He pushes himself up slightly, his face closer to Billy’s now than it’s been all night, and that taunting smile still in place despite the trickle of blood dripping down his chin.

A hand wraps around Steve's throat, pushing him back down into the seat, the smile on his face something feral. "You just gonna fuckin’ lay there and take it Harrington?" he demands, his free hand slamming into the cushion of the seat. That same hand balls into a fist and he punches again. Now it’s his turn to lean in, his body pressing flush against Steve. "Fight back," he shouts, voice too loud for the small confines of the Trans Am.

Steve sucks in a breath but it’s stopped short by Billy’s hand on his throat and he huffs it back out when his head hits the seat again. And he flinches when the other boy’s hand hits the seat so close to his head, but he’s ready when it connects with his face again, eyes open and never leaving Billy’s. He thinks for a moment about just laying there and letting Billy beat him so badly that he won’t be able to drive home, that maybe it’ll kill him and put him out of his misery.

Instead, with one hand he grabs the other boy’s shirt, makes sure they’re still pressed flush against one another because if he’s going to die, he wants to do it with his cock hard and pressed against Billy’s thigh. With the other hand he punches Billy in the ribs and then in the face, trying to even the playing field a little.

Billy’s body arches like a cat at the blow to his ribs, his teeth rattle with the blow to the face but the groan in the back of his throat isn’t from pain. It’s from Steve’s cock pressed hard against his thigh, it’s from his hand on Billy’s still heaving chest. His tongue licks over his lower lip and he tastes blood.

“You done yet?” Steve’s panting, he left eye beginning to close from the black eye he’s nursing. And by now he has his hands pressed flat against Billy’s bare skin, his shirt open and pushed away from the effort of fighting.

“Tell me you hate me,” Billy growls, one hand fisting in Steve’s hair before his lips crash against the other boy's, his hips rolling down brutally.

The sound that Billy makes is the thing Steve has been looking for, and he feels the other boy’s back arch under his fingertips. Even with the way he licks his lips, blood smeared on his chin, he has Steve biting his own lip again, whining as his fingers thread into already wet hair. He hates everything about Billy—the way his teeth scrape against Steve’s, the taste of copper and cigarettes in his mouth, his muscles jumping under his fingers. Only war lives in the body on top of him, tearing at his skin, tearing Steve open in the process.

“I fucking hate you.” And he wants to hate the boy, god he does, but his body says something different as it arches up to meet Billy’s, as he whines for more, no matter how brutal. He digs his nails into the spaces between Billy’s ribs, lets one hand stray to his back and hangs on sharp shoulder blades.

His hair hangs in his face as he looks down at Steve, smiling a red toothed grin at the other boy. “Good,” he huffs, watching as a drop of blood slips from his lip and drops onto Steve’s chin. Billy kisses him again and it is all teeth as the hand in Steve’s hair tightens. But the kiss isn’t his true focus, he’s paying more attention to his own hand slipping between them, undoing Steve’s pants so he can touch him. Billy groans into the kiss as he strokes him, air coming up far too short in his lungs to pretend this means nothing.

That smile has Steve aching—sultry and savage and just like the wolf he knows Billy is. He feels the blood drip onto him but he can’t care, all he can do is try to breathe before Billy kisses him again. And then they are at each other’s throats again, Steve’s hand on Billy’s neck, thumb pressing into the other boy’s windpipe as he feels fingers tighten in his hair.

But he forgets everything when he feels Billy’s hand in his pants, and he moans wantonly into the other boy’s mouth. He can barely even kiss him once Billy’s hand starts to move, Steve’s hips stuttering as his spine arches to meet the touch. He has never felt anything so good, the toughness of Billy’s hand exactly what he needs. “Fuck Billy.” He groans the words out, a hand sliding down the other boy’s back, slipping into his pants to grab his ass and pull him closer.

The hand on his throat makes Billy dizzy. He presses into the touch, feeling it start to cut off his air supply. This has him so hard in his jeans it practically hurts and he whines into Steve's mouth. Billy's skin feels too hot, flushing hotter with every sound he pulls from the boy underneath him. Billy pulls his hand away, hoping that too will bring a reaction. He shrugs off his jacket and pulls his shirt off, skin already slick with sweat as he tugs Steve's off too.

The whine that sits deep in Billy’s throat could do Steve in if the boy doesn’t take his hand away so suddenly. It has him sitting up, a childish frown creasing his brow, but he lets out a long breath when Billy takes his shirt off. He doesn’t even realize he’s been sweating, but the fabric is soaked and it’s soaking through to the seat beneath him and Steve doesn’t care. All he cares about is getting his hands back onto Billy’s skin, running them down his stomach before he fumbles to get the other boy’s pants undone.

Billy’s cock in his hand is so flushed and hard that Steve can’t believe it’s really happening. And he’s panting again, teeth digging into the boy’s shoulder, mouth sucking a bruise into the skin of his neck. “What do you want?” He lets his eyes roll up to Billy’s as he leans back, hand still stroking, but more slowly, teasing as he waits for an answer.

He doesn't make any attempts to temper the moan that Steve pulls from his chest as he touches him. Billy's hand grips the side of the car as his head tips backward. His free hand cups Steve's face, thumb pressing into the beginnings of a bruise that he put there. "I want to fuck you," his words are low and vicious, his lips brushing against Steve's as his hips buck into the other boy's hand.

He can’t stop himself from grinning at the sounds Billy makes, that satisfied smirk resting on his face only as long as the other boy isn’t touching him. He is an animal, his head tipped back, throat exposed and Steve wants to dig his teeth in and draw blood. A gasp escapes him when Billy digs his fingers into a fresh bruise, and he grits his teeth, jaw flexing as he pushes back. For all the times he’s hit him, for all the times he’s lost control, Steve can almost forgive Billy now.

He’s already moaning his answer into Billy’s mouth as his fingers tighten around the boy’s cock, his own aching with the friction. He wants Billy to wreck him, to break him open like he’s done all those other times in the locker room, only this time he wants the other boy to be moaning his name while he does it.

The sound is somewhere between a yelp and a moan as Steve's hand tightens around him. Billy groans into the kiss as he works to push his pants down his thighs, not even hoping to get them all the way off in such a tight space. He sits back onto his knees moving off Steve as best he can; tugging the other boy's jeans down he has to bite back a moan as he looks at him, bruised and ruined already, cock hard and reddening for him. "Roll over, on your knees," he grits out as he strokes Steve, letting go so he can do what Billy asked.

Every reaction elicits a grin, makes him do it again in hopes that Billy will make the same sound a second time. It's the surprise on his face that really makes Steve lick his lips, watching the other boy as he pushes his pants down. The way Billy looks at him once he’s gotten his own pants down far enough to turn over makes the boy pause for a split second. No girl has ever looked at him like that—like he was something they needed, not just something they wanted.

He doesn't have time to really think about it though, because he’s shifting his hips, pulling himself up to kneel in front of Billy, his face already pressed into the headrest. His jaw aches and his skin is still burning from Billy’s knuckles, but the rest of him is shivering despite the heat inside the car. If anyone passed them now there would be no doubt what they were up to; the windows and windshield are completely fogged up.

Steve grabs his own cock for a second, the other hand’s fingers digging into the fabric of the headrest as he turns his head to watch the other boy. For all his brutality, Billy is a beautiful boy with his light eyes and long hair. Steve might say this if he didn't already feel like an idiot for just thinking it, but his half-lidded eyes cannot keep the thought hidden.

Billy places one hand on Steve's hip, using the other to guide himself inside of the other boy. He chokes out a groan as he does so, his head dropping between his shoulders as he tries to catch his breath. "Fuck," he whines as he sets a quick pace. The press of his hips, the feeling of Steve so tight around him, pulls sounds from Billy he didn't know he could make. His hand presses tighter against Steve's hip as he moves faster, the sounds of his moans filling the car.

He’s started stroking himself by the time Billy pushes into him and a sound between the surprise of pain and the pleasure of being so full escapes him. And he knew the boy wouldn’t be gentle but he echoes the ‘fuck’ that falls from Billy’s lips as his back bows and his shoulders hit the boy’s chest, his free hand coming around to slide into wavy hair. He pulls as Billy slams into him, unable to keep quiet, his hand on his cock speeding up the closer he gets.

Steve is sure his skin has never felt like it was on fire before, is sure he’s never wanted someone as much as he wants Billy and part of him hates himself for it. He moans the boy’s name and just that act deepens the color of his cheeks, knowing that when this is over they’ll return to their normal lives. They’ll have to go back to hating each other, even though Steve doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to look at Billy again and not want him so badly it hurts.

Billy’s lips drop to Steve’s shoulder, hissing against his skin as the other boy tugs on his hair. The sound of his name on Steve’s lips has his grip tightening, his hips driving harder into him. He can feel that pressure at the base of his spine but he’s doing his best to work past it, even as his moans grow louder and his hands start to tremble. It has never felt like this and he is afraid of the sort of addiction it will spark inside him.

He cannot feel the tremor in Billy’s hands for the pressure in his own spine and the brutal rhythm as the other boy picks up speed. His own hips stutter as he leans forward, one hand gripping the seat in front of him, the other tightening on his own cock. Steve is losing it, his legs quivering under his own weight and Billy’s. And while he tries to hold back, Billy moaning loudly behind him does Steve in, and he’s suddenly coming all over his hand, so hard his arm gives out, his whole body shaking as his face hits the headrest. “Fuck.” He stutters the word out loudly, hips shifting to get Billy deeper, gasping as he moves forward.

It’s not until Steve shifts his hips and Billy can press deeper that he falls apart. He leans forward, teeth sinking into Steve’s shoulder as he drives inside of him. And like a wire pulled too tight he snaps, coming hard, fingers digging into Steve’s ribs as his eyes shut tight. It takes more than a moment for Billy to even be able to move. He’s breathing hard as he pulls away from Steve, pushing his hair out of his face as he leans back, the steering wheel jabbing into his spine, but he can’t bring himself to care.

There’s something about the way Billy goes completely stiff, his teeth in Steve’s skin, his nails still digging into his ribs, that makes it almost unreal. And the boy can’t help but smirk into the fabric of the car seat, his teeth digging in, to think that he did that. It’s a thrill beyond even getting Billy to kiss him, beyond seeing him naked and actually being able to touch him. And he shifts again, catching the other boy as he runs a hand through his hair, raising his eyebrows playfully for a moment before he remembers—

They are nothing—

not friends

not lovers

just strangers that hate each other.

And they must return to those rolls now that their breathing is returning to normal. As he pulls his knee up to his chest to allow Billy to move back to his own seat, Steve almost regrets this. He hates himself for knowing he’ll jerk off to this as soon as he gets home, hate himself for wishing it could be more. But it’s just as well, and he knows that as he huffs out a breath, pulling his pants up and retrieving his shirt from the floor by Billy’s feet.

Oddly detached from himself Billy climbs back into the passenger seat, tugging on his jeans and pulling his shirt back on. The rain has stopped, a few drops hitting the roof from the trees overhead. And running a hand through his hair he looks over at Steve and smiles a little. “It's stopped raining—can you drop me off on main?”


	2. Feels Like We're Drowning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They usually avoid each other in the shower, since gym is a venue for them to fight. But Steve wants to make Billy admit that he’s weak, and he knows just how to do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys are ready for some sexy shower time!
> 
> WARNINGS: physical violence, smut (shower sex, oral—male receiving), angst
> 
> 18+ READERS ONLY

The awkward conversation they’d had on the drive back into town, or lack of it, is the first thing Steve thinks of when he sees Billy in gym class. Then he’s fighting off memories of Billy’s teeth in his lip, his fingers in the other boy’s hair and he has to step out into the hallway for a drink from the water fountain before anyone sees the boner quickly forming in his pants.

Their teacher never puts them on the same team, and it only fuels the rivalry, only has Steve’s back pressed into Billy’s bare chest as he guards him. And the second Steve turns to shoot the ball Billy drops him, his back hitting the hard floor, the back of his head following. The black dots that he sees blot out the other boy’s face for a moment before he’s picking him up grudgingly, some taunt on Steve’s lips as soon as his feet are on the ground again, and Billy’s fist in his shoulder, in his face.

He lingers in the locker room, blood still running from his nose as he stands under the steaming water. He’s considering skipping his next class and leaving school, doesn’t know what he’ll do if he does, but his skin feels too tight suddenly and he doesn’t want to be here anymore.

He’s thought about the night in Steve's car more than he'd like, jerked off to it more than he'd admit, but they fall into old patterns easily enough. Billy hangs around the locker room, wanting to be the last one in the shower, moreover wanting Steve to be gone. But he always has to make things so god damn hard.

Giving up and stripping out of his clothes he heads into the shower, steam already coiling across the floor as he turns his own shower head on and steps under the spray. “You got a little something there," he says, shit eating grin in place as he gestures to Steve’s face. He does his best to keep his eyes focused on the blood trailing from Steve's nose and down his chin, not letting his eyes wander, but he doesn't know if that makes things any better.

He is decidedly not looking at Billy when he steps into the shower, the room empty except for them and the other boy still using the faucet right next to his. He has to be quick about finishing up if he wants to keep his composure, but when Billy speaks Steve gives him a sideways glance and he knows he’s already done for. That grin, the nonchalant set of Billy shoulders makes Steve tense up, reminds him of things he’d rather not think about while they’re both wet and naked.

He huffs out a laugh but there’s nothing behind it, there’s no fight in his bones at the moment, just a fire the water he’s standing under can’t put out.

“Yeah, thanks for that. You certainly do know how to put on a show, don’t you?” His eyes are rolling as he turns his face back into the water, every muscle in his body too tight and his movements stiffer than they should be. He can’t help shaking his head, knowing Billy is a coward, knowing he’ll never get off without hiding behind that ruse of hatred.

Billy's grin widens at the barb and he shrugs before he settles against the tile wall. "Yeah I’ve heard I'm pretty good at it.” His tone and posture are light yet Billy feels anything but as his eyes follow the last remaining boy out of the showers. He reaches out then, hitting Steve in the shoulder, a playful punch compared to the others he has thrown in the boy's direction. "Don't make it so easy for me."

With that he steps under the spray of his shower, tilting his face up and reveling in the warm water. He didn't go home that night, not really. He went by to grab some things and his car and that was it. He has been parking it in new places each night to sleep, sneaking into the school early to grab a shower so no one will notice.

Steve hates how easy things seem for Billy—every cutting remark brushed off, every word falling from his lips so goddamned easily. Even the way he leans against the wall makes the boy want to punch through the tile, to wake Billy up and make him feel something. Steve is always aching, always fucking hiding behind whatever bravado he can muster and it makes him so tired.

He doesn’t know how Billy manages.

“Right.” The word eeks out through clenched teeth, his body stiff as the other boy punches him lightly. He bangs the faucet off a moment later, watching Billy with his eyes closed under the water for a split second before he feels both of his hands connect with the boy’s chest, pushing him hard against the wall.

“I won’t make it easy again.” He grits the words out, not sure if he means them about fighting in school or about the sex, which he assumes will never happen again. And he doesn’t intend to leave his hands on Billy’s chest but he can’t make himself move for a moment once he has him against the wall.

Billy's hand moves immediately to Steve's throat; he doesn't press hard but it’s just enough to get his point across. "What're you gonna do, Harrington?" Billy demands through gritted teeth. "You really gonna fuck me up, huh?" He pushes back then, coming off the wall but his hand is still around his throat. "Or do you just wanna fuck me?” He's close then, his lips brushing against Steve's as he speaks.

All he can feel is Billy’s hand on his throat, his cock immediately hard with the pressure. And he takes two steps back, fingers slotting into the spaces between the boy’s ribs, nails biting into slick skin, the fight not quite leaving his body yet. His free hand skates down Billy’s stomach, grabbing the boy’s cock just tightly enough to garner a reaction. Head tilted back Steve’s eyes roll up and then close when he feels Billy’s lips so close against his. “What’d you fucking think?” He moves his head just enough to slide his tongue along the boy’s lower lip teasingly, his hand sliding up painfully slowly.

This, Billy knows, is all he's really good for.

He inhales sharply, almost a gasp, as Steve wraps a hand around his cock. At the teasing tongue against him Billy moves ever closer, his teeth sliding along the other boy's lip. It's almost hard enough to draw blood—almost, but not quite. His free hand reaches around to grab Steve's ass, pulling him flush against his chest. "I think I'm not fucking you until you beg me for it.”

When he thinks of Billy, Steve knows this is all the farther he’ll ever get. He’ll never know the boy’s favorite song, what makes him throw his head back and laugh childishly with reckless abandon. He’ll only ever know the feeling of teeth drawing blood, knuckles raising bruises, fingers crushing his windpipe.

(he’d settle for less

if that was all Billy was willing to offer

because somehow

there is a shard of the other boy

lodged in his chest.)

He licks his lips and expects to taste blood, is surprised when he doesn’t, but sucks in a breath when Billy pulls him closer. He’s still smirking when he speaks, pressing his own cock against the boy’s thigh. “You think I’m gonna be the one begging?” He wants to have the upper hand just once, to make Billy fall apart, to hear his voice shaking and calling out his name. He strokes Billy again, his thumb circling the head of the boy’s hard cock teasingly.

He's surprised, almost impressed, by Steve's boldness. He'd never say that though, would never want to give anything away. The less you give away the less people have to hurt you with. Billy grits his teeth as he bites back a moan, nostrils flaring as he watches Steve. He wants to throw his head back, he wants to give in to the sensation of the other boy's hand around his cock, but he has never known when to call uncle.

"You think you can make me?" He asks through gritted teeth, "Go ahead and try.”

The way he grits out every word lets Steve know he’s already winning. And it is less about winning than it is about breaking the other boy down piece by piece.

He accepts the challenge with raised eyebrows, that self-same smirk on his already swollen lips, blood still tricking from his nose, pooling just above his upper lip and dripping down his chin. And he kisses Billy hard, tongue caressing the other boy’s before he drops down onto his knees.

His mouth is around Billy’s cock before the other boy can say anything else, his tongue drawing across the slit, down Billy’s length, hand cupping his balls tightly. He’s not letting the other boy off easy, taking him all the way into his mouth, pressing him as far back into his throat as he can get before he comes up for air panting; all the while watching Billy for the reaction he so desperately wants.

Billy gasps as Steve takes him in his mouth. One hand moves to steady himself against the wall, the other hand tightening in Steve’s hair. It’s hard to get a handle on his breathing, his head tipping back as he groans. His teeth bite the inside of his cheek so hard he tastes blood, his whole body tense and wanting. For the life of him he is determined not to say anything; still, he’s gasping when Steve pulls away.

He is reveling in the tenseness of Billy’s body, the way he tries to hold back the gasps and fails. And he could lose it himself as he looks up at the other boy, head thrown back against the wall. Steve hasn’t even touched himself yet, and he won’t until he hears Billy ask for it.

Steve knew it wouldn’t be easy to break the other boy, and he smirks again, leisurely stroking, admiring the other boy’s weight in his hand, before going back down on him. He lets one hand trail up the boy’s thigh as he does, nails biting into his hipbone, pinning him further against the wall. And he keeps working for another minute without taking a breath, taking Billy as far back as he can, until his throat and jaw are aching and he has to pull away, gagging.

He holds tight to Steve’s hair, hips thrusting hardly gentle as his moans echo off the shower wall. “Fuck,” he moans, legs shaking as he tries to hold himself together.

“I can stop, if that’s what you want.” There’s the hint of a laugh in his voice, his hand coming around to Billy’s ass as he stretches up to lick the boy’s stomach, lets his teeth sink into tense muscle.

The muscles of his stomach jump as Steve sinks his teeth into his skin and he swallows hard. “I didn’t say anything about that.”

The other boy’s moans are so loud, surely someone has heard by now. and the chance that another student or even teacher might catch them just excites Steve more, his cock so hard he’d come if Billy touched him even a little bit. And he feels the tremor in Billy’s legs, knows he’s close to getting what he wants and hums against the boy’s skin.

“What are you saying then Billy?” He continues to tease the head of the other boy’s cock, Steve’s hand tight around his length, and Billy’s name as close to a curse on his lips as a word can get, his eyes challenging.

His stupid pride almost gets in the way, he almost doesn't say anything, but he is so close and Steve's mouth feels sinfully good around him. "Fuck," he sighs, defeat evident in his voice. "Don't stop.” And he doesn't care if anyone walks in, doesn't care if caving makes him weak. Billy can't think of anything but how good he feels and the tremble of his legs as he tries desperately to hold himself together.

He breathes out a laugh at his victory, lets his fingers trail down Billy’s stomach slowly before he digs his nails into sharp hipbones and takes the boy into his mouth again. And this time he’s no longer teasing, moving quickly and getting Billy as far back into his throat as he can, letting the other boy take control and set his own brutal pace.

And he’s moaning around Billy’s cock as he finally starts to stroke himself, his knees aching but an afterthought to how fucking good it feels, to how sensitive he is. He’s practically falling apart, shaking as he looks up at Billy.

The pace he sets, pressing deep into Steve's throat, is not kind. Much like the moans slipping from his mouth are not quiet. It's Steve moaning around his cock that does him in. A few more rough thrusts and he is coming in Steve's mouth, hot and heavy, his spine bowing off the tile wall. He thinks his legs might give out the way they're shaking as he comes down from that high. He's gasping, lung fulls of steaming air doing nothing to help him catch his breath. "Holy shit," he breathes, closing his eyes as he lets his head rest against the wall again.

His voice will be hoarse for the rest of the day but he doesn’t care with Billy’s fingers twisted tightly into his hair and those wanton moans slipping from his lips. And he’s coming seconds after Billy, head thrown back, whole body shaking until he can catch his breath.

And Billy can't deny that he is beautiful as he falls apart. There is so much beauty in the other boy but Billy is too brittle for sentimentality like that. He doesn’t have room in a life full of lies and violence for soft spots.

Still, he has one doesn’t he?

Steve finally finds his legs, bracing himself against the wall for a moment, eyes still roaming over Billy’s body as he grins. “Fuck.” The word falls from his swollen lips, breathy and sated.

It’s like he hasn’t showered at all, and Steve lets his hand trail down Billy’s arm before he turns back to the water, rubbing some soap onto his skin. He’s still too hot, ready to turn the water to cold so that he can suffer through the rest of school and go home.

He almost follows Steve under the spray of the shower, wants to wind his arms around his waist and sink his teeth into the other boy's shoulder, but he doesn’t. Instead, he returns to the shower head he had claimed earlier, turning the hot water up and letting it burn his skin as he tilts his face into the spray and angles his body away from the other boy.


	3. I Just Wanna Make Out In My Car

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is in deep, but Billy is still resisting his feelings. That is, until Steve finds him living out of his car and they both start opening up a little more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to another shameless chapter full of car sex and angry boys...
> 
> WARNINGS: smut (car sex, anal—male receiving), angst
> 
> 18+ READERS ONLY

He’s still thinking about the way he didn’t linger under the water after they were finished, though he still watched the other boy wBilly himself for a moment. He wishes things could be different—that Billy wasn’t such a violent fool and that he was stronger, able to just take what he wanted.

But he’s a fucking coward and Billy Hargrove isn’t the kind of boy you pine after.

Steve is driving around aimlessly as the sun sinks below the buildings on the far side of town, knowing he should go home but not wanting to. He figures he’ll just park somewhere and sit for a while, and the parking lot he chooses has one other car in it.

Billy’s.

He thinks for a moment about turning around, but as he pulls up he sees a blanket in the backseat, and something clicks in his brain. So he throws the Trans Am in park and gets out, bending down to lean into the open passenger side window of Billy’s car.

“Tell me you’re not sleeping in here.” There’s an edge to his voice that sounds suspiciously like caring, though the look on his face barely betrays that.

He changes up where he sleeps, stays far away from the school and his house. It's not so bad, shit, it's heaven compared to his house. He doesn't have to worry about his dad bursting in on a drunken tear and kicking his ass. He doesn't have to see his mom or his sister cry—none of it. Stretching out in the backseat and watching the stars through the moon roof is probably the closest thing he has to peace.

Billy doesn't realize he's dozed off until a voice wakes him up. jumping awake he sits up, rubbing a hand over his eye. "Well not any fucking more," he gripes as he looks over at Steve, eyes bleary, body tired.

He laughs slightly at Billy’s reply, opens the door and slides into the passenger seat without invitation. He’s good at that, insinuating himself into people’s spaces, making room for himself even when he’s not really wanted. Turning half way around in his seat and leaning on the headrest he rests his chin on his arm, looking the other boy over. He looks more tired than usual and Steve wants to reach out and draw his fingertips under the boy’s eyes. But he keeps his hands to himself—he knows better than to show any softness around Billy. Breathing out hard, he makes a face, trying to dispel any tenderness he might feel for the boy in front of him before he speaks. “What are you fuckin’ doing out here Billy?”

Billy bites his tongue when Steve hops into his car uninvited. he's too tired for a fight and just wants to be left alone. "Sleeping and minding my business. Is that a problem?” He rubs at his eyes again, settling into the seat and kicking his feet up as he looks at Steve with his eyebrows raised.

And Steve gives him a look right back—defiant and brash, like he doesn’t believe Billy for a second. He would be wise to remember that Billy is volatile at the best of times, and he can already feel the discomfort in the other boy at his presence. But he pushes on, trying to burrow further under Billy’s skin, trying to force an answer even though he’s already hit a brick wall.

“Now I know you’ve got a bed at home for that. So why are you out here doing it?” All he needs is an inch, one tiny admission to sate the curiously welling in his gut. He has always wanted to know more about the other boy and Steve feels like he may finally get that if he can just push the right buttons.

Irritation flares hot inside of him at Steve’s intrusive questioning. His jaw sets and nostrils flare as he crosses his arms in front of his chest. “Why do you fucking care Steve?” He sounds more tired than pissed off and he hates himself for not putting the right amount of steel in his tone.

“Jesus christ Billy, really? Why do I fucking care?” He’s suddenly angry, all the things he’s pressed down all these years, and in the past few weeks springing up as though some wall has been let down. And he shakes his head, face hard with all that anger, bangs his hand on the seat loudly because he can’t reach the other boy to hit him instead.

“I fucking like you, that’s why I care. You’re such a fucking idiot.” His face doesn’t show any of the tenderness caught in the statement, his fingers finding the door handle and pushing it open half way, his foot getting it the rest of the way open so that he can throw himself out of the car. And he’s just about to yank his own car door open when he looks back over his shoulder, an afterthought on the tip of his tongue.

“Stop feeling sorry for yourself and let someone help you once in a while. You might be a little happier.” His voice is softer when his says it, his face softening some though the tension in the rest of his body remains.

His jaw clenches at Steve's explosion. It was akin to watching his little sister throw a tantrum. He doesn't even flinch as the other boy strikes the seat. And he watches, almost dully, as Steve gets out of the car. He would have let him go too if it wasn't for that comment he threw over his shoulder.

Billy is out of the car then, his hands colliding with Steve's chest as he pushes the other boy into the Trans Am. "What? Because you like me you're entitled to know all about my shit?" Billy demands as his hands fist in Steve's shirt. "What the fuck do you wanna hear? That my dad beats the shit out of me and I hit him back so now I can't go home? Does that make you feel fucking better Steve?”

His back hits the car painfully, but something in him is just glad for the reaction after the glazed over stare his outburst garners. “No, because I like you I want to know about your shit.” It’s not an outburst this time, it’s spoken through clenched teeth, spit out because he thinks the other boy should know this by now. Steve shakes his head, a tired sigh slipping past his lips as he grabs Billy’s shirt and pushes himself off the car. Now it’s the other boy’s turn to be pinned against his own vehicle.

“It’s not supposed to make me feel better Billy. It’s supposed to make you feel better to tell someone you trust about what’s going on. I’m not gonna tell anyone, you can trust me, I just want to help.” He stares at the boy for a long moment before dropping his hands and taking a step back. He leans against his own car again, running a hand through his hair as he tries not to focus on the ache in his chest at what Billy has told him.

Billy is gritting his teeth so hard he feels as if they might shatter under the pressure. He is practically shaking with rage, the anger stemming from a place of fear and vulnerability and he hates Steve for doing this to him. "Why the fuck would that make me feel better?" he demands, not really wanting an answer. "I'm not your goddamn charity case and you can't help me.”

“Fuck you Billy, just—fuck you! Y’know, I never asked you to kiss me that night. I was fine before you fucking touched me, but I can’t go back now.” Steve cannot for the life of him understand Billy. He knows the other boy wants him, but he cannot separate the lust and emotion in himself. He has never just wanted Billy. And he throws his arms up, unable to stop the words from rushing out.

“Why won’t you just let me in? I mean shit, I know my parents don’t beat on me but my life isn’t that great. My parents are never home and when they are they don’t even notice that I exist. I have to take care of my siblings and it feels like I’m just going to go from that to having my own kids and want to tear my fucking hair out because I hate this town. I’m tired of being trapped. I feel like I can’t breathe and the only time I feel like I can is when I’m around you, and I hate you for that.” He just wants the constant ache in his chest to subside, but he knows the only way that will happen is if Billy touches him like he means it. Steve would be a fool to think that would ever happen, but he’s still holding his breath for it.

“I just thought that maybe I could do something, but I guess I was wrong.” There is defeat clear in the slump of his shoulders as the boy turns towards his car again, pausing for just a moment before he opens his door.

Billy thinks maybe, just maybe, his chest is going to cave in as he listens to Steve. His expression doesn't change but he feels something inside of him shift. It feels as if it takes him forever to push off of the car, his hand reaching for Steve's shoulder to spin him around. Catching this other boy’s face in his hands, Billy kisses him and it is not demanding or violent, it is heartbreaking.

He thinks that the hand on his shoulder will cure that ache in his chest, but the way Billy kisses him just makes his heart clench tighter. He can’t breathe as he opens his mouth to Billy, kisses him again and again despite feeling like he might drown. And he’s gasping for air when they finally pull apart, his fingers wrapped so tightly in the other boy’s shirt that Steve cannot even feel them anymore.

“What can I do? I’ll do anything.” He feels helpless, pressed against the other boy, pulling him back into another desperate kiss, his hand finding the back of Billy’s neck to hold him into it.

"You don't need to do anything.” Billy can hardly get the words out before Steve is kissing him again. He goes willingly, one hand gripping Steve's ass, the other still tangled in his shirt. He is a broken thing that cannot be fixed, all the good intentions in the world don't matter when it comes to Billy Hargrove.

The other boy’s hand on his ass has his mind elsewhere, focused on what he can do to allow them both an escape from their shitty situations. And in the midst of kissing him, Steve’s free hand finds the handle of his door throwing it open and flipping the seat up. He crawls into the backseat then, tugging Billy into the car with him. And then he’s back to teeth and sharp limbs, hips pressing up into Billy’s as they crowd into the car, teeth sliding over the other boy’s lower lip as he kisses him again.

“Fuck Billy—“ He whines against the boy’s neck, hard already, hips stuttering with every brush.

Billy follows willingly as Steve pulls him into the car, his breathing already labored by the time the door shuts behind them. His jeans are too tight and his head is spinning as he kisses Steve, lips moving along his jaw, pressing to the spot behind his ear before he moans, hips pressing and needy against the boy under him.

"Tell me you want me," he pants out as he presses his hips down again, as his hand slips under Steve's shirt.

He is a mess as soon as he feels the other boy pressed against him, breath catching in the back of his throat, head thrown back as he feels Billy’s lips on his jawline. His skin is already too hot and he’s working on the button of the other boy’s jeans when he speaks. “I want you so bad it hurts Billy. I’ve never really wanted anyone else.”

His voice is shaking from all that pent up want, his hand sliding into the boy’s pants as Steve sits up slightly to kiss him again. If all they ever do is fight and fuck, Steve will live for these moments of wanton passion, where he can breathe Billy’s name out with all the feeling that’s caught in his chest. His hips rock up as his hand slides forward, a moan pressed against Billy’s neck. “Fuck me Billy. Please.”

Billy chokes out a moan as Steve's hand slides into his pants, as he kisses him, as he tells him he wants him more than anything. He’s breathless as he nods at Steve's request. It's tricky work getting the other boy's jeans off in the back of the car and he's quick to push his own down to his knees. And he's kissing Steve as he presses inside of him, a gasp pulling air quickly into his lungs but it's still not enough.

Billy buries his face against Steve's shoulder as he starts to move, a whine in the back of his throat as he holds the other boy tighter, as he feels Steve shiver around him.

He hates that they never have more room than the backseat, but it doesn’t really matter. All that matters is Billy moaning in his ear and the press of his hips against Steve’s. And he helps kick off his pants, ignoring how uncomfortable it is to be crammed into this position when the boy kisses him again.

The moan that escapes him when Billy presses into him is too loud and Steve throws his head back, hitting the door. And he’s whining immediately, hips needy as he shifts to get Billy deeper, pulls the boy closer. The feeling of Billy inside him is almost unbearably good, he’s so full he can barely breathe. Curses pressed into the other boy’s hair, the smell of him as intoxicating as his lips against Steve’s skin, everything feels like it’s too much.

“Billy I—“ but he presses his teeth into the boy’s shoulder before he can finish. He knows better than to say those words to the other boy.

Billy places his hand on the back of Steve’s head, his knuckles pressed between his skull and the door of the car. And there is nothing convenient about this but Billy isn’t looking for convenience. He’s losing his pace fast, the fingers in Steve’s hair curling tight and his hand on the other boys hip shaking slightly as he pounds into him. “Jesus,” he whines, practically drunk on the sounds he’s pulling from the other boy.

He’s shaking by the time Billy’s fingers curl in his hair, not even touching himself but so close just from the friction of his cock against the other boy’s skin. He pushes Billy’s shirt up further, running his hands up the boy’s sides, slotting his fingers between Billy’s ribs and digging his nails in. “Tell me you want me Billy, just this once.” He’s begging, panting as he kisses Billy’s neck, sitting back to look him in the eyes.

The request makes his chest ache, his eyes squeezing shut as he tries to catch his breath to speak. “Fuck, I want you,” he pants, turning his head to press his lips against Steve’s throat, “all the time,” he huffs.

He’s too hot suddenly, when he hears Billy’s response and it has him angling his hips up, adjusting just slightly enough that Billy can press deeper, and Steve feels something release inside of him. And he’s twisting his fingers into the other boy’s hair as he comes, his face pressed into Billy’s neck, whole body shaking with the ecstatic pleasure.

He wants so badly to believe that Billy does want him, that he doesn’t want anyone else, and he’s still gasping for breath even as he’s coming down from the high, hands smoothing themselves down the boy’s arms.

Billy does his best but he can’t hold himself together anymore, as Steve falls apart beneath him. His hips move quickly, hands holding Steve tighter as he comes, gasping into the other boy’s neck. His arms give out after a moment but there is nowhere for him to move, so he lays himself down gently on top of the other boy, his head under Steve’s chin.

It’s almost sweet, the way Billy lays down on top of him for lack of a better place to go. Steve runs his fingers through the boy’s hair gently, brushes it behind Billy’s ear as he lets his head tip forward. “I sleep in the basement, you could come and stay with me for tonight if you’re tired of sleeping in your car. My parents would never know.” He presses the words into Billy’s hair as he kisses the top of his head, hoping he can hold onto this moment for just a little while longer.

Billy is almost certain that he should stay far away from Steve, but he’s never been good at it—even when he is only cruel. His arms wrap around the other boy’s waist as he considers the offer. I’s hard to tell if he’s more prideful or selfish. “Yeah, okay, I’ll stay.”

Selfish it is then.

A thrill runs through him when Billy says he’ll stay. Steve hadn’t imagined he would, had just thrown the comment out so the other boy would know it was an option. But now that it’s a possibility Steve can only grin up at the roof of the car and try not to say something dumb that’ll make Billy change his mind.

“There’s a side door, so I’ll leave it unlocked for you, whenever.” He keeps the excited shake from his voice, lets his fingers trail down the side of Billy’s neck, runs his nails down the boy’s back as he tries not to move.

Despite the thrill that runs through him as Steve runs his fingers along his arms Billy still feels impossibly tired. Physically and emotionally exhausted. His eyes are drifting closed and Billy is fighting to keep them open.

“I'll move in a minute," he mumbles, tilting his face up to run his nose along the line of Steve's jaw, his arms winding around the other boy's waist.


	4. Nightcall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys share an intimate moment somewhere that’s not a car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: smut (oral—male receiving, anal—male receiving), angst
> 
> 18+ READERS ONLY
> 
> Are they finally realizing this is something yet??

He doesn’t know how long he laid there with Billy sleeping, his eyes trained on the ceiling, listening to the unfamiliar sound of the boy breathing calmly. For a minute Steve thought his heart might break as his eyes drifted closed, remembering that this was how Billy had been spending his nights, but they were going to fix that.

He is going to fix it.

Steve doesn’t mean to try and fix Billy—as fucked up as the boy is, he knows it’s not entirely his fault, and something in Steve loves Billy’s brokenness. But he’s determined to make sure that Billy knows he doesn’t have to struggle so hard. Things could be slightly easier if he’d just let Steve in.

He leaves the door unlocked like he told Billy the day before, a pile of old blankets thrown on the beat up sofa to give the illusion that someone might have slept over if his parents catch wind of the other boy. But there’s not a chance that Steve is letting Billy sleep on that ratty old couch. And despite all of the pent up feelings that have been keeping him up night after night, he’s nearly asleep when he thinks he hears the door open.

He almost doesn’t go. But somehow the idea of an unlocked door patiently waiting and never being opened seems worse than all the times his fists have left bruises. So Billy parks his car a few blocks away and walks to Steve’s. It’s all lower middle class housing, neat lawns, two cars in the driveway. It’s nothing like the slums he crawled out of. As if the stark dichotomy between them needed anymore evidence.

He almost knocks, but peering through the window it looks like Steve is asleep. So he opens the door quietly, stepping out of his shoes and pulling his shirt over his head. Billy’s bones practically ache as he lays down on a real bed for the first time in weeks.

Without even opening his eyes, he rolls over to face the other boy, hooking his fingers into a belt loop to pull him closer. Arm slung low across Billy’s waist, he presses his face into the space between the boy’s shoulder and neck, breathing hotly with a mumbled “Hi”.

He’s not tired anymore suddenly, even as he yawns, kisses Billy’s shoulder and lays back. This is the first time he’s ever lain in bed with anyone, his head swimming as he can smell nothing but the other boy. “Took you long enough.” He laughs slightly, his tone teasing and still sleepy.

It feels incredibly intimate, the way Steve pulls Billy closer, the kiss he presses to his shoulder. Billy has never been good with intimacies, has no idea how to properly let his guard down. There is nothing in him that knows how to be vulnerable. He’s still lying on his back as he turns his head to look over at the other boy. “I didn’t know I had a curfew.”

He rolls his eyes, can barely even see the other boy in the dark, but knows the look Billy is giving him. “Please. What were you doing anyway?” he asks lightly, like he has any right to the information, runs his fingers just above the top of the boy’s pants before he takes his hand back. He doesn’t want to seem needy, but he is. He fucking is.

He shifts then, onto his back, staring up at a ceiling that has glow in the dark stars sprinkled over it from when he was a kid and pretended to camp down here. It feels too personal all of a sudden, like he’s let Billy in completely, and he feels raw at the thought.

“Minding my business,” Billy’s tone is teasing as his eyes travel to the ceiling. A joke sounds better than saying he drove through the neighborhood twice before finally deciding to park. “You put those up there?” he asks, gesturing in the dark towards the ceiling and trying to ignore the slight shiver that climbs his spine as Steve’s hand draws across his hips.

“I’m not very good at that.” He raises his eyebrows, glancing over at the boy before letting his eyes drift back up to the ceiling. Those stars bring back memories of a time before he felt responsible for everyone else in his life. He’s years older than his siblings, old enough to remember a time when they did not exist, when he was free to actually be a child.

“Yeah, it’s dumb, but I used to put up a tent down here and pretend I was camping. That was before my siblings were born.” It wasn’t like his father had ever come down and spent time with him, even then, but there had been the illusion of a happy family. Now there was just tired snapping and careful avoidances. He turns over, trying to hide his hard on by pressing it into the mattress, thankful his blush is hidden by the dark when he looks at Billy again.

Billy smiles a little as he looks up at the stars for a moment longer before looking back at Steve. “Nerd,” he teases, bumping his shoulder into Steve. He almost hates himself for the lightness of the moment, knows that he doesn’t deserve soft things when he’s all sharp edges.

Steve catches that fleeting smile, and breathes out a laugh as Billy bumps his shoulder. He cannot help but shake his head, knowing he is exactly that. “Yeah well, you fuckin’ like me, so what does that make you?” It’s a bold assumption to go from knowing Billy wants him, to hoping that he likes him. And that laugh is still in the back of his throat when he speaks, the smile touching more than just the corners of his mouth now.After a moment he lets his fingers brush along the boy’s sharp jawline, leans in and kisses him softly on the corner of his mouth before shifting to kiss him more fully.

“Eh, you’re all right,” Billy says with a soft smile, softer than anything he has ever given the other boy. As if he can confess things through smiles in the dark. Then his mind is given something to focus on. Steve’s lips pressed against his. Cupping the side of the other boy’s face he deepens the kiss, his breath halting in his throat as he pulls Steve closer.

He does not miss the softness in Billy’s voice, the careful smile that says more than words ever could. And he wishes this boy existed in the light, wishes it wasn’t just tiredness and the dark that brought him out. Steve feels the other boy pull him closer, all of the tiredness gone from his bones. He shifts his hips, pulling Billy on top of him, and sits up half way to kiss him again. One set of fingers is in the other boy’s hair, the other running along Billy’s ribs, claiming every inch of skin that they can. And he’s panting already, whining into Billy’s mouth as he presses his hips up, too thin boxers halfway down as the boy gets his shirt off.

Billy's breath hitches in his throat as Steve pulls him on top of him. Steve's already hard underneath him and any idea of slowing down goes right out the window. If Steve doesn't care about fucking one floor below his parents neither does Billy.

One hand on Steve's chest, he pushes the other boy back onto the bed, his lips trailing along his throat, down his chest. His fingers slip below the waistband of Steve's boxers, tugging the thin fabric the rest of the way down his hips, further down his thighs. Teeth and tongue press into the other boy's stomach, the sharp bone of his hip, before Billy takes him into his mouth.

His skin is already too hot, flushing red under Billy’s lips, pulse racing as he feels the other boy’s fingers just below the waistband of his boxers. His hips are already pressing up desperately, and he’s whining when he feels teeth against his hipbone.

Steve’s fingers thread into Billy’s hair as his muscles tense, and everything feels like too much with the boy’s mouth around him. Wet and warm, Billy’s mouth is perfect, his tongue swirling around the tip of Steve’s cock. He has to clamp a hand over his own mouth before he moans too loudly, before someone catches them, but even then he wouldn’t care. “Holy shit Billy, you’re gonna kill me.” He says it, because it just feels so fucking good—and he’s practically ready to fall apart just watching Billy’s head bob, his own head thrown back onto the pillow as his hips stutter up with every downward motion.

Just hearing Steve moan against his hand has Billy pressing his hips against the mattress, his hands holding tight to the other boy's hips. Despite the desperate need for air he pushes down further, takes Steve as far back into his throat as he can, moaning around him as he reaches one hand down to push at his own jeans.

He’s gagging, tears in his eyes when he pulls away to gasp for air, his lips pressing against Steve's thigh as his hand takes over. “That's the point," he replies before he nips at the sensitive skin. Steve is beautiful with his head thrown back in the pillows and it makes Billy's breath catch in his throat.

He could lose it right now, hips bucking up into Billy, and he whines loudly when the other boy replaces his mouth with his hand. Steve’s chest aches when he lifts his head, looks at the boy kissing his thigh and threads his fingers into Billy’s hair. “C’mere.” He tugs at the other boy’s hair, dips his chin down so he can kiss Billy hard, nails digging into his shoulder blades as he presses his hips up, a needy whine in the back of his throat.

Steve's hand tugging at his hair has Billy groaning, his teeth sinking into his lower lip before he kisses the other boy. He kisses back harshly, his jeans too tight, his skin too hot, and by the time Steve's hips press into his and he hears the other boy whine he's pushing at his jeans. He has them midway down his thighs before he's shifting on top of Steve, hooking his legs over his hips so he can press inside of him. Billy gasps as his hand tightens around Steve's thigh, his kiss rough as he sets a steady pace.

He’s still helping Billy push his jeans down as they kiss, as Billy fills him completely, his hands sliding over the other boy’s chest and stomach with an almost sweet reverence. And for a split second he remembers that any of his siblings or his parents could walk down the basement stairs, but it’s pushed completely from his mind as Billy leans into him.

His back arches immediately as he moans into Billy’s mouth. And his thumb presses hard into the other boy’s sharp hipbone as his whole body tightens against how good Billy feels inside of him, against how full he feels. He can feel the boy’s teeth against his lip, drawing blood and Steve’s hips stutter with the mixed sensations. “Fuck, Billy.” The words are a whine, his skin already slick with sweat, his legs tightening around the other boy.

The feeling of Steve underneath him, all the sounds he makes, is intoxicating. Billy is moaning against the other boy’s throat, his fingers digging into his thigh as he fucks him. “Christ,” he huffs, his hairline already damp, that ache in his stomach growing more insistent as he pumps into the other boy. “Tell me how good I make you feel,” he breathes out, one hand slipping between them to wrap around Steve’s cock.

When Billy’s nails dig into his skin Steve threads his fingers into the other boy’s hair and huffs a breath out. His spine is already tingling just from the feeling of Billy’s skin sliding against his cock. But when the boy touches him with that kind of intent, it has Steve reaching for his ass, encouraging a faster pace. He’s so on edge that every breath is a curse. “Ah, fuck Billy, you know you’re the only person that can make me come anymore.” And he lets his spine arch, all of his nerve endings raw as he pushes himself up into the other boy’s hand, his lips finding the hollow of Billy’s throat before he can say anything else stupid.

It's that admission more than Steve's hand on his ass that has Billy picking up his pace. The bed creaks underneath them and he can't be bothered to care. Billy tries to stifle the moans building in his throat, his body practically shaking with the effort it takes for him not to come.

his hand moves to match the pace of his hips and he's gasping against Steve's throat as he gets closer, his nails digging into the other boy's skin as that pressure low in his gut becomes unbearable.

He’s still flushed red from the admission he’s just made and the friction from the other boy, and Steve can hardly stand it. He moans Billy’s name again, presses his lips against the boy’s hair to try and quiet himself down but Billy’s hand on his cock feels so goddamned good that he can’t keep himself in check. He feels his hips stuttering, his body going ridged with the force of his release, and all he wants is Billy’s tongue in his mouth, to taste the other boy while those white dots blot out his vision.

Billy is coming the moment Steve goes rigid underneath him. He gasps the other boy’s name out as his own vision whites out, the static in his brain overruling everything else that’s been building there over the last few weeks. He can hardly catch his breath, even as he collapses back onto the bed, his arms giving out.

He’s panting hard when he finally comes down from it, petting Billy’s hair after he comes and they’ve both collapsed against the mattress. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this satisfied before in his life, and after a moment he curls up against the other boy and lets his eyes drift closed, practically humming his content against Billy’s chest.

Billy winds one arm around Steve, pulling him closer as his eyes fall shut. He realizes as he listens to the steady breathing of his partner, that he’s the most content he’s ever been in his life, but before the acid of worry can shoot through his veins, he falls asleep.


	5. You were Just Some Spell I was Under—That Endless Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The summer comes to an end, and brings more change with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: angst
> 
> 18+ READERS ONLY
> 
> Get ready for the heartbreak kids

School ends and the summer comes on fast; they decidedly do not talk about him leaving for school. There was a conversation once about NYU, about how maybe he’d put it off for a year and work to earn some money, but it hadn’t gone anywhere. Mostly Steve just wants to pretend like everything is okay, and he knows Billy just doesn’t want to deal with it. There are still nights when he lays awake and wonders where the other boy is. These are nights of wasted hours of sleep, of waking up startled and alone.

He knows, as he has always known, that he is never going to get what he wants.

He finds Billy in the grocery store parking lot, abandoned after hours, and he lets his own car idle before throwing it into park and getting out. There’s only a week before he leaves for the city, before he gets the fuck out of dodge and doesn’t look back. But there’s something holding him back, and he has to get that weight off of his chest.

“I can’t believe the summer’s almost over; it went so fast.” He says it as he leans against the other boy’s car, arms crossed over his chest because he doesn’t know what to do with his hands, voice steady even though his heart is pounding in his chest.

Billy is incredibly aware of just how fast the summer has gone, and he wishes, more than anything, that Steve had just left him the fuck alone. If he had, Billy wouldn't be walking around feeling like he was gutted all the god damned time.

It's not a surprise when the other boy finds him in the parking lot. Billy was laying on the hood of his car, chain-smoking and watching the stars shift slowly in the sky. He slides off when the other car idles next to him, leaning against the door before Steve comes to stand next to him. "Don't you have the days marked on a fucking calendar or some shit?" he asks, ashing his cigarette before taking another drag.

There is a calendar in his room with months of X’s slashed into the boxes. But he’d stopped marking the days a month ago because he didn’t want the reminder that he was leaving Billy behind.

A part of him desperately wants to stay.

He shrugs in response to the question, giving the other boy a sideways glance before looking back out over the wasteland of the parking lot. It’s a good metaphor for their hometown, for the lives they’d inevitably live if they stayed here.

There is nothing here for either of them, except each other.

“I keep thinking about Mr. Miller offering me that job at the law firm. Legal assistants don’t make bad money, and maybe saving for another year would be better—” He still doesn’t look at Billy, knows if he does that his face will give everything away. And maybe more than that, he’s afraid to see what’s in the other boy’s eyes, afraid of the answer he’ll find there.

He feels so tense he’s practically sick with it; his jaw clenched as Steve talks, and it’s nothing but false hope. “Don’t say shit like they if you’re not actually gonna do it,” he tries to keep his tone neutral but part of him knows he failed miserably. “And we both know you don’t want to stay.” What isn’t said is ‘I don’t want you to stay’, because Steve has a chance to get out of this shit hole town and Billy isn’t going to be the reason he wastes his life here.

The way Billy responds makes Steve close his eyes, because he can hear it in that tone, the other boy is already angry. And he’s right, Steve doesn’t want to stay, but he wants Billy, and that’s enough to change his mind for at least a little while. It’s enough to make him consider his options, to ask questions he might not have thought of before.

“I don’t want to stay, but you’re here and I want _you_ , so—“ Steve shrugs again, his arms unwinding from in front of his chest, his fingers seeking out the bottom of Billy’s shirt to toy with the thin fabric. And he barely looks at the other boy, his heart still beating too hard in his chest, on the verge of fucking breaking because he doesn’t want to leave the other boy behind.

Billy closes his eyes and tilts his face up towards the night sky. Nothing is ever easy with Steve. He shakes his head a little. “Yeah, well, we can’t have everything,” he sounds more defeated than he means to, the ache in his chest coloring all his words.

Steve finally looks at the other boy fully, shifting so that one shoulder is pressed against the car, the other hand finding one of Billy’s belt loops so that he can tug the other boy towards him, making Billy look him in the eye. And he sighs, wondering why everything has to be so goddamned hard all the time.

  
“What if we could? Come with me to New York. There’s nothing here for you, what’ve you got to lose?” His teeth settle themselves into his lower lip, his voice so fucking hopeful that his chest aches when he finally gets the words out. This is what he’s really been thinking about the last month—going and taking Billy with him and never having to worry about looking back.

Billy sighs but doesn’t resist as Steve pulls him closer. He runs his tongue along the inside of his lower lip and shakes his head. “What, so I can just come home when no one fucking hires me?” He asks as he lifts an eyebrow.

He had a job at the local mechanics but that was because the old man knew him. He didn’t have a degree and he wasn’t going to get one. He couldn’t do shit in New York and he wasn’t going to be some leech who made a home on Steve’s couch while he was in class.

“So what, that’s just it?” His voice portrays all the pain and anger Steve feels, everything that’s been building the last few months. His thumb presses hard into the other boy’s hip as he swallows loudly, his eyes never leaving Billy’s face.

“Billy, I don’t want to leave you here. I—“ The boy’s voice breaks, his eyes lowering themselves to the space between their feet. There have been so many times that he’s wanted to say it, but he’s terrified of what the other boy’s response will be.

“You what?” It’s a break of a sentence he would usually let slide but Billy feels combative. He has a strong idea what the other boy is going to say and it makes his chest ache. He is worse off than Billy thought if he even thinks of saying he loves him.

His head snaps up at the question and he can see the look in the other boy’s eyes. But Steve doesn’t care—his chest has been aching for months with the weight of this truth, and he might as well let it go if he’s going to leave.

“I love you. Okay? I fucking love you and that’s why I don’t want to leave.” He might be on the verge of tears if his heart wasn’t beating so hard in his chest, the rush of adrenaline making his fingers shake slightly against Billy’s skin.

Actually hearing Steve say it makes Billy come up short. _Fucking idiot._ It’s not that he doesn’t love him too, it’s not that he wants him to go, but he knows it’s better if he does. Billy shakes his head as his chest feels like it’s going to cave in. “You’re stupid if something like that would stop you from leaving.” He shakes his head, staring at the pavement between their feet so that Steve cannot see his face.

His breath catches in the back of his throat when Billy answers him, and it feels like his chest might actually crack open. Steve knew the other boy would never say it back, but it hurts more now that it’s a reality, and not just an assumption in the back of his head. “I’m the idiot for loving you, for wanting to take you with me? C’mon Billy, stop being such a fucking coward and come with me. Why are you staying when I shouldn’t?” His fingers have woven themselves into the boy’s shirt without Steve realizing it, and he’s pressed closer than he intended when he started, begging Billy to look at hime without actually saying anything.

“Because, Steve, you have a real fucking chance to make it outside of here!” Billy snaps and he wants to shake the other boy. “I don’t! I’ll get shitty jobs and barely make my part of the rent until you’re sick of me and I have to fucking come back anyway. Is that what you want?” He can hardly breathe his throat is so tight but he refuses to cry, refuses to be anything other than pissed off because maybe then Steve will get it.

“So you’re just gonna stay here and have a shitty job and be miserable instead?” Steve will never understand staying here out of fear or complacency. He’s been dreaming of getting out his whole life, and this ache in his chest is just something he needs to break through. He thought if he could just find a solution for it, everything would be fine.

But Billy isn’t easy.

“How could I ever get sick of you Billy? You’re all I want, all I fucking think about. I’ll take you any way I can get you. I don’t care.” And he genuinely cannot think of a way that it would happen—loving the other boy any less fiercely, wanting him any less than he does right now. He knows it's childish and naive to argue his point, but he'd be crying if his fingers weren't pressed so hard into Billy's hip.

Billy scoffs and looks away from Steve with a shake of his head. "That shit fades, you know?" he asks, incredulous and aching all at once. He runs his tongue along the inside of his lip again, "and at least I'll have a shitty life on my own terms, I won’t be some fucking charity case.”

Steve is sure it won’t fade for him, can’t imagine the ache in his chest ever going away, no matter how they end things. He knows no one will ever touch him the way Billy has. “No, I don’t know!” He feels like an idiot, and he’s glad it’s dark and that the parking lot is empty because the last thing the other boy says hits him hard. He can feel the tears gathering in the corners of his eyes, tries so fucking hard not to let them get the better of him, but Steve has always been the weaker one here.

“I’ll never understand you Billy. It’s not charity—I love you, it’s fucking different.” But now he can feel the tears running down his cheeks and he looks at the ground instead of the other boy, taking a small step back because he doesn’t want Billy to see.

Billy pulls a hand roughly through this hair and sighs. “Shit doesn’t change shape just because you love someone Steve! If I stole your car does it make less of a crime because I love you?” It takes a beat for him to realize the words that have just fallen out of his mouth, and his jaw snaps shut almost audibly as his hands fall to rest on his hips.

He cannot change Billy’s mind, he knows that. He can’t convince him to leave, that things might be different if he just gave them a chance to be. And all of that makes his head ache, makes his jaw tight with anger and sadness. But when he hears the frustration in the other boy’s voice, he almost misses the last words he speaks. Everything is static for a moment, his ears ringing, the hollow beating of his heart too loud.

Steve reaches across the small space between them to hook his hand around the back of Billy’s neck, closing the gap. When he kisses the boy, it is harsher than their first kiss, more full of longing than that kiss ever could have been. And he doesn’t want to break it, his lungs burning from the lack of air. When he finally does rest his forehead against Billy’s, chest heaving, a few tears are still rolling down his cheeks.

“I don’t want to leave you.” He feels stupid saying it, whispers it so quietly that maybe Billy won’t even hear, but it’s the only thing he knows for sure.

Billy inhales sharply as Steve pulls him close, his hands at the other boy’s waist as he holds him in place. The kiss makes him feel vulnerable and raw and when Steve pulls away he just feels hollow. “You’ll be all right,” he says softly his thumb brushing a tear away from Steve’s cheek. He’d go to New York and he’d find someone or something else to occupy his time and he would forget all about Billy and his sharp edges and bruised knuckles and the world would spin madly on.

But nothing about this feels right—he’s only just gotten Billy, he shouldn’t have to leave him so soon. And he knows he can promise that he’ll visit, but he shouldn’t; once he leaves this blackhole of a town, Steve doesn’t intend to come back. And he knows Billy knows that. his heart breaks at the softness of Billy’s touch, his voice too gentle when he speaks. He’s always known there was more to the sharp edged boy, he just never thought he’d see it.

“Yeah, all right.” There’s a sad little laugh behind his words, defeated as he is, and he’s not going to say goodbye, because the hollow ache in his chest won’t let him. Billy has to move first because Steve can’t make himself do it.

The sound of his voice makes Billy’s whole body ache. But he has never been afraid to rip the band aid off, to throw the first punch, so he’s the first to pull away. “You probably have some packing to do,” he says and his voice holds none of the fire he wants it to as he fishes a cigarette out of his pack and sticks it between his lips. He barely looks at Steve as the other boy turns away. It’s better this way; it will be better in the end.


	6. We're Never As Lost Or As Found As We Think We Are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their ten year high school reunion brings the boys back together, but they’re not necessarily the same boys that broke each others hearts all those summers ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: smut (car sex, anal—male receiving), angst
> 
> 18+ READERS ONLY
> 
> The reunion we've all been waiting for!

He’d thought that being in New York would make him full again, that it would erase the empty ache in his chest that had formed the night he’d said goodbye to the other boy. But he felt sick for weeks with a longing that had him filling his gas tank for the drive home. He always stopped himself right before he walked out the door, keys in hand—going back would be like signing a death warrant.

Billy had made it clear he wasn’t going to let Steve back out of his own dreams, and he felt as though going back might be a step in that direction. He was also sure that Billy had moved on quickly from whatever it was they’d had.

He’d avoided holidays as long as he could, and when he could no longer avoid his mother’s calls, he would drive up for the hour or so that dinner took and then drive right back. He was terrified to stay overnight, terrified that he’d wake and be unable to stop himself from searching the other boy out. As it was he’d driven by every empty parking lot he could on the way into town that first time back, but Billy’s car hadn’t been in any of them.

Better to let sleeping dogs lie.

When he gets the postcard about their ten year reunion he lets it sit on the counter for two weeks, glancing at it every time he walks by. There’s no real reason to go—he knows Billy won’t be there.

In the ten years that he’s been gone he’s tried to fill the hole in his chest with things that don’t smell like engine grease and cigarettes. There have been a few boys and girls, but he never feels anything and the last time that the wrong name slipped past his lips Steve knew there was no use pretending.

He doesn’t rsvp; decides at the last minute to drive down and see if there’s anything worth remembering in their little blackhole of a town. He keeps his eyes on the road, even when he passes the old grocery store parking lot where they’d said goodbye. And then he’s pulling into the school’s circular driveway, his car still standing out amongst his peers.

Nancy makes a beeline for him as soon as he gets in the door, and she has him cornered for nearly an hour, his eyes scanning the room but never seeing the person he’s looking for. By the time she lets him go he’s ready to leave, head down, halfway down the hallway and thinking how stupid he is for even bothering to come.

Billy hadn’t really intended to show up but there was this stupid, utterly ridiculous, little strand of hope that maybe Steve would show up. And it shouldn’t matter, he knows it shouldn’t matter, but it’s there just the same. He knows that if Steve does show he’ll probably have a wife or a girlfriend or some other guy in tow and that’ll kill him—but isn’t that what he wanted to begin with?

He hadn’t made much of himself, but he did own the auto shop now, had fixed it up until it was actually impressive—maybe even the best in town. He didn’t think that was saying much, but it said _something_.

He makes a home by the open bar, taking his time on whiskey sours as he scans the crowd. There are a ton of people he recognizes, most of them never having left town after high school, but not the one person that actually counts. So eventually Billy gives in and goes for a cigarette, not one to smoke inside and always happy to use it as an excuse to get away.

When he walks back in he stops dead in his tracks, that old familiarly crooked grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “Looks like the prodigal son has returned,” he croons as he watches the back of Steve’s head. He would know that hair, those shoulders, anywhere.

There is something like defeat in his chest—the feeing that he was a fool to come back here, hoping that Billy would have the same stupid idea. And he’s ready to give up on that tiny sliver of hope, fingers absently trailing along the concrete walls as he watches his feet, until he hears a familiar voice and his head snaps up.

They’ve both grown up but Billy’s hair is vastly different while Steve’s has stayed mostly the same. He’s still achingly beautiful, that goddamned grin making Steve’s chest feel like it might cave in. And he can’t help smiling coyly, the other boy’s striking blue eyes no less entrancing than the last time he’d seen him.

“Back for one night only.” His eyebrows are raised with that teasing tone, and he’s half hard already as he takes a step towards the other boy, leaning against the wall because he doesn’t really know what he’s supposed to do exactly, now that he’s got Billy in front of him.

“ _Oh,_ a limited showing,” he teases because it’s so much easier to joke than it is to say something that’s actually meaningful. And Billy shrugs a little, looking Steve over shamelessly as if he can catalogue every little difference in the man standing across from him.

“Yeah, I guess you better make the most of it.” Steve laughs at himself, but he can feel the blush rising in his cheeks, his eyes dropping to the ground between them for a moment. When he looks back up he is unashamedly staring, red face and all. And he wants to say something witty, but his throat is suddenly too tight to say anything else. All he can do is look at the boy, putting his hands in his pockets so that Billy doesn’t see them shaking.

Billy does’t miss a beat, swiping his thumb across his lower lip, as he chuckles low. “Yeah I guess I’d better,” and he’s cursing himself for not scanning Steve’s finger for a ring before he shoved his hand in his pockets. But in the end, would it really matter one way or the other?

That look, the way the other man runs his thumb over his lips, has Steve clearing his throat awkwardly, ready to dig for more information. “How’ve you been?” And those three words translate to—

_who are you seeing?_

_did you miss me?_

_do you still love me?_

“Y’know, I’m alive,” he says vaguely, shrugging because his life has been mostly empty save for his job at the shop, and standing in front of Steve now that feels entirely pathetic. “How’s life in the big city?” He asks it as he rakes a hand through his hair, moving a little closer.

Steve hugs out a breath, "just surviving, that’s all? C’mon Billy, I’m sure there’s more to it than that.” He needs there to be more to it, because he needs to know that Billy is okay. And he shrugs in response to the question, watching Billy move closer and shifting closer himself, however unconsciously. “Busy, but not very exciting. Better than here was I guess.” He doesn’t sound sure about that, because even when he was drowning in their little town he still had Billy.

His smile wanes slightly when Steve presses the matter, so he ignores it. Some people never change. “Yeah well, we always knew that would be the case, right?” Some people were meant to get out of tiny towns like theirs, and some people just weren’t. The two of them had always sat firmly on either side of that line.

Billy doesn’t make a move, and Steve just nods because he realizes suddenly that nothing is going to happen. He’s been the only one pining away for this the last ten years. And he knows better than to press further when he doesn’t get an answer to the question the second time he asks.

Some things never change.

“I miss it sometimes. Well, not here so much as—“ He is still as naive as ever, his heart aching just looking at the boy, less than a foot separating them. “You.” Steve bites down hard on the inside of his cheek after he says it, though the final word is said so quietly it could easily be missed with the din behind them.

The air is caught in his lungs as he waits for Steve to finish his sentence, that stupid hope flaring warm in his chest. Then he says it, and that is all the encouragement Billy needs. He closes the small distance between them, catching Steve’s face between his hands as he kisses him deeply. The kiss, filled with a decade of longing, makes his whole body ache as he presses Steve flush against the wall.

The seconds between him speaking and Billy kissing him feel like an eternity, but nothing could have been longer than the ten years he’s spent telling himself that this would never happen again. He cannot breath and he doesn’t care, one arm around the other boy’s neck, the other buried in his hair. He has not forgotten the way Billy tastes of nicotine and menthol, his tongue sliding against the other boy’s again and again. And he lets his teeth sink into Billy’s lower lip before he tries to breathe again.

Steve doesn’t dare pull away for fear of the moment ending too soon. “Were you waiting too?” It is an embarrassingly stupid question, but it falls from his mouth before he can get control of his lips again.

Billy groans into the kiss as Steve’s teeth rake over his bottom lip, a shiver crawling up his spine in response. The question almost makes Billy want to laugh, and he gives the other man a look that says as much before he kisses him again, pressing closer this time, his leg sliding between Steve’s.

He doesn’t actually care about the answer, his fingers tightening in Billy’s hair as he kisses him again. And he cannot stop himself from whining into the other boy’s mouth as he moves his leg, Steve’s spine arching off the wall in response. “Fuck, Billy.” He doesn’t think about who might catch them out here, moans echoing in the empty hallway, and if he thought about it, he wouldn’t care either.

He feels like he’s right back in high school, breathe hot on the other boy’s neck, teeth grazing the soft skin there. And his hips stutter as he groans again, as Steve presses himself against Billy’s thigh, so hard he doesn’t think he’ll make it another minute.

Billy feels like a live wire. This simple tryst in a high school hallway has made him more keyed up and alive than any other encounter he’s had over the past ten years. His fingers dig into Steve’s hips as the other man presses against his thigh, and he presses back harder, a whine in his throat. He’s trying to get some sort of hold on himself but he’s ridiculously hard and too wound up when he finally speaks again. “We should go somewhere else,” he gasps out against Steve’s ear.

Any sound that Billy makes just serves to wind Steve up further and he’s already panting when the other man pulls away. He rubs his hand over Billy’s hard cock in his pants, letting out a long shaky breath. “So take me somewhere.” It almost sounds like a challenge and he has to rest his head against the wall, his heart pounding in his chest so loud the other man must be able to hear it. There’s a grin on his face the likes of which haven’t been seen in the decade they’ve been apart.

Billy's breath catches, a whine in the back of his throat as his hips press into Steve's hand. The other boy is still a fucking tease. He leans in and nips harshly at Steve's lower lip before pulling away from him, grabbing his hand to take him back outside. There are only a few people straggling around the parking lot, Nancy among them and if she sees them she says nothing.Almost everyone is still inside partying and trying to show one another up, but Billy couldn't give a fuck about any of that, even if he tried.

It's the same black Camaro he's always had and he's not sure if he should be ashamed of it. but he doesn't pause to think about that as he climbs into the back seat, pulling Steve with him, not for the first time. It’s a bit of nostalgia neither man can escape.

He is, if nothing else, the same boy he has always been—lips too eager, all too willing to let Billy drag him away from the party and into his car. And he remembers this car, the first time they fucked in the back seat after Steve had confessed to liking the other boy. And now here they are, ten years later, the same ache in his bones for the boy beside him.

He’s already undoing the buttons of his shirt by the time he crawls into the car, hips sinking down into Billy’s as he tries to get some friction. But it’s useless because his pants are too tight and he’s still kissing the boy as he tries to push them down, the small space seeming even smaller now that they’re older.

But Steve can’t care as he pulls Billy towards him, popping the button of the other man’s pants, his hands already shoved below the waistline of his underwear to grab his ass. And just rubbing against him feels so fucking good, Billy’s lower lip sliding through his teeth as he kisses him, before letting his head fall back into the seat with a wanton moan.

If it wasn’t for the hungry ache in his bones Billy would almost feel as if no time has passed at all. As it is, he feels as if he was wandering the desert for years and this is his first drink of water. There’s a whine in the back of his throat as Steve grabs his ass and pulls him closer. Billy groans as he gets the other boy’s pants down in the too tight space and shoves his own down with a desperate and sloppy quickness. And it feels like it’s taking him years to get the angle right to finally be able to press inside of Steve. But when he does he’s gasping against the other boy’s shoulder, eyes squeeze tightly closed against how fucking _good_ it finally feels.

Everything feels so goddamned desperate, especially the way he’s panting before the boy even presses into him. Oh god and when he finally does, Steve thinks he’s never felt more on fire. Every nerve ending is firing, his skin so sensitive that every brush of Billy’s fingers has him whining. He twists his fingers into the other man’s hair, lips pressed to the top of Billy’s head as he tries to get him deeper. And he hates how small this space is, wishes they’d had more time and a bed, but it still feels so fucking good when Billy digs his teeth into his shoulder.

“Fuck me Billy.” He moans the other man’s name, his breath hot in Billy’s hair until he looks up and Steve can kiss him again. And he slides his hand between them, stroking himself, even though he’s already so close.

Billy is barely holding himself together and when he places his hand on Steve’s lower back to get the angle right so that he can press deeper, his hips stutter. Nothing has felt this good since Steve left. Nothing has made him feel more alive. His lips are rough, one hand on the back of Steve’s head the other still holding him in place as he drives into the other man. His teeth sink into Steve’s lower lip as he gets closer, curses and moans fed into the kiss.

He hadn’t realized how much of a ghost he’d been until Billy kissed him in that hallway. And he realizes now that nothing has felt right since they last touched. Everyone and everything pales in comparison to the man on top of him.

Steve wants to hold out, wants to make this last as long as possible because he knows he’ll have to go back home when it’s all over, and try to forget it ever happened. He’ll have to go home to that empty apartment on the 15th floor and take a cold shower every morning just to wash away the memory of Billy’s fingers pressed into his skin. He tries to memorize the feeling of the other man holding him into the kiss, and suddenly his body is going rigid. He comes so hard into his own hand that he’s shaking, holding onto Billy to steady himself, the air caught in the back of his throat.

Billy can only manage a few more hurried thrusts when Steve falls apart underneath him. He’s gasping, his whole body going stiff as his fingers dig into Steve’s hips, the other man trembling around him, Billy shaking with the effort. “Fuck,” he huffs as his arms finally give out and he lays down on top of the other boy. It makes his chest clench with nostalgia as the sounds of his labored breathing fill the car.

Lips pressed to the top of Billy’s head, fingers running through the other man’s damp hair, Steve can almost pretend that nothing has changed. And he’s still breathing hard, trying to calm himself, but feeling like he’s never going to be right again.

“I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to come back, but I remember now why I forced myself not to. I was always afraid I wouldn’t be able to leave again.” He feels the same way he did the night he left ten years before—chest heavy and aching, heart hurting because they both wanted the same thing, but he was too weak to stay and Billy wasn’t strong enough to go. And he knows nothing has changed in this way. He’d stay if Billy said he loved him, hell he’d stay if Billy dug his fingers in a little harder and kissed him again. Anything to make him feel as alive as he does when they touch.

Billy holds on to Steve a little tighter, though it’s hardly possible given the space they inhabit. He had thought if Steve left he’d be able to move on, and it leaves him aching to think that didn’t happen. He lifts his head, watching the other man for a moment, and there’s so much he wants to say and nothing he knows he should. So instead he brushes his nose against Steve’s before he kisses him hard, trying to convey that gaping wound in his chest that has sat there for the past decade untreated and never healed.

He closes his eyes against the feeling of Billy’s fingers tightening against his ribs, presses his lips a little harder against the boy’s scalp. Steve knows now that he’s wrong about the way things feel. This is much worse than the last time—he knows the empty ache he has to look forward to when he goes home now, and he knows this is the only thing that will ever heal it. Billy’s lips against his are like a salve, and he pushes into it, fingers curling in the soft hair at the nape of Billy’s neck. He can’t breathe and he would willingly suffocate under that weight.

“Let me stay tonight Billy.” He’s shaking when he speaks, whispering the words so desperately he thinks his heart might break if Billy refuses.

Billy can feel Steve shaking and holds him a little tighter, his lips pressing to the other man’s temple as he nods. “Stay as long as you want,” and even such a small sentence feels so heavy in his mouth, in his heart.

He expects Billy to say no, to tell him to go the way he did the last time. And he knows he’s holding his breath as he waits for an answer, but he doesn’t realize how long he’s been holding it until the other man speaks. His breath comes out shaky, _‘okay’_ on its heels breathy and barely audible. Steve still can’t move, pinned beneath Billy and thankful for the man’s weight on top of him. And he closes his eyes for another moment, breathes out a quiet laugh without really meaning to.

Billy knows he should tell him to go, but he only had the strength to push him away like that once. Maybe if Steve had really, properly moved on it would be a different story. He feels Steve laugh underneath him and his eyebrows pull together, “What?”

Steve runs his fingers through Billy’s hair, and they card through easily, presses his palm to the boy’s cheek and smooths a thumb over his tensed eyebrows. “I thought you’d be married by now, or at least—“ he breathes out and draws his thumb down Billy’s lower lip. “Over this.” His eyes don’t leave the other man’s, even as he leans forward and kisses him softly.

He shakes his head a little, a derisive snort in the back of his throat, “You thought I’d be married?” He asked before Steve leaned in to kiss him. “I figured you’d be here with someone,” he admits softly, his fingers trailing small circles against Steve’s skin.

“There was never really anyone else.” Steve looks back at the other boy a little sadly, his smile only touching the very corners of his lips as he presses into Billy’s touch. “Why did it take us so long?” he sighs, leaning his head back against the seat, looking up at the ceiling of the old car.

The words make Billy's chest feel as if it is cracking open. He always thought that Steve would find someone and make a real life for himself, outside of this shitty town and away from his family. The fact that he didn't, that they wasted all this time, it makes him feel incredibly stupid. And he can't watch him as he talks, instead Billy runs his nose along Steve's jawline, his lips finding a home against the other boy's pulse as he lets out a shaky breath, “We didn't know.”

His breath is shaky when he breathes out, his fingers running through Billy’s hair as he closes his eyes. He has waited ten years to touch this boy again, and he never once thought in all that time that this sentiment would cross Billy’s lips. Steve doesn’t know entirely what it means, but he knows he going to hold on to it, no matter the cost. “I’m not going to waste it this time.” He runs his fingers lightly behind the other man’s ear, along his jaw until he can look him in the eye again.

**Author's Note:**

> [PLAYLIST](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3GWsRtb7ZhSL870NT3gevs?si=2bjMMvLtQ6-EsYj4rtodPA)


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